


Dandelion Wishes

by deewrites



Series: The Dandelion AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU that stays as close to canon as possible, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, depictions of mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deewrites/pseuds/deewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minerva McGonagall trusts Albus Dumbledore with her life, really she does.  But sometimes the decisions he makes leave her wondering if he has any sense at all when it comes to the wellbeing of small children.  One of these times, she decides to take matters into her own hands, and the fate of the wizarding world is potentially changed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed and then said, “Yes - yes, you’re right, of course.”

This was not the first time she’d taken actions similar to this, nor would it be the last. However, this time, as she changed tactics to questioning why Dumbledore had chosen to trust Hagrid with the life of a toddler, and as she stayed mostly quiet and watched as Hagrid arrived and the young Harry Potter was placed on the front step of his aunt and uncle’s house, her thoughts stewed inside her brain.

Warming spell or no, it was November and it was chilly. That wasn’t even to say what might happen should Harry wake up before he was discovered - did Albus really think a fifteen month old would stay calmly inside a basket? And even if Harry managed to stay warm and asleep all night, he had naught but a **letter** to ensure his wellbeing. She’d watched this family all day - the boy would be coddled and spoiled at best, horribly mistreated by this selfish family at worst.

As she stood at the end of the walk with Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore, watching for a minute as Harry slept on in the basket on the front step, she blinked back furious tears. Anyone watching may have thought her tears were of sadness over the death of two former students, or emotion that this saviour of the wizarding world would grow up not knowing he was famous, but Minerva knew that the tears stinging her eyes were born of a different emotion.

She could not bring herself to respond to Albus’ question of how soon he’d be seeing her, so wrapped up in her own thoughts as she was, so she merely blew her nose in response, letting him believe she was overwhelmed with whatever emotion he saw in her face. When he returned light to the streetlamps lining Privet Drive, bathing it in a flood of orange light, Albus Dumbledore saw a tabby cat slinking away around the far corner of the street. What he did not see was that very same cat returning to Number Four, Privet Drive mere minutes after he himself disapparated.

As for Harry Potter, his hand curled around the letter in his basket and he slept on, not knowing that he was special, not knowing that he was famous, not knowing that Minerva McGonagall had plucked his basket back off the front step of his aunt’s house and was heading away with him, determined that though she might have given up on convincing Albus Dumbledore that his plan lacked all common sense, that didn’t mean she could not ensure that Harry Potter was raised by someone - **anyone** \- other than Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of Number Four, Privet Drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Prologue is really short, but hopefully gives a vague idea of where the story will be going. I have the first five chapters mostly written, so they should be going up relatively soon, the last two need more substantial amounts of work.
> 
> This will be AU, obviously, but I am going to attempt to stay as true to canon as I can, considering the rather large change in the premise of the story.
> 
> More character tags to be added once I've posted the first chapter.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Minerva drops Harry off with some temporary guardians.

It was nearing one o’clock in the morning and if anyone living along a certain stretch of Halifax Road just outside of Leeds had been awake and happened to look out their window, they might have seen a tall woman carrying a rather large basket-shaped item approach one of the houses on the street. She would have disappeared into the shadows of the doorway, though perhaps squinting would reveal that she had set the basket down. Of course, most people aren’t awake at one o’clock in the morning, and those who are don’t tend to be the peering out windows type. Those living in the houses nearby certainly weren’t.

And so, no curious eyes saw Minerva McGonagall stop and gently place the basket holding a sleeping Harry Potter down on the stoop and then raise her fist to the door and knock.

There was no response. The occupants of this house, it seemed, were like the rest of their block and not the type to be awake at one o’clock in the morning. Minerva knocked again, just in case. When there still was no response, she slumped in the doorway a little.

“Of course you’re going to make me do this the hard way,” she muttered to no one in particular.

She bent down over the basket and whispered a quick spell of protection, and then, after a few furtive looks around, proceeded to do something that would have caused any onlooker to double-take… she transformed into a cat.

The cat ran across to the second window on the right and jumped up onto the window sill. The cat then proceeded to start scratching at the window and mewling.

It did not take long for this tactic to have an effect. The lights in that room of the house turned on, and a man who looked to be about Minerva’s age soon came to the window and opened it.

“Minerva?” he asked. “Is that you? What are you doing here at this hour?”

Minerva merely mewed again and jumped down from the window sill. She took a few steps toward the front door, then turned back and looked at the man expectantly.

“Alright, you've gotten your point across,” the man said, “I’ll let you in the front door.”

By the time the man arrived at the front door (after being questioned by his wife as to why Minerva was at the window), there was no longer a cat anywhere to be seen, and Minerva was back in her tall human form, holding the basket that was serving as Harry Potter’s crib for the night.

The man’s wife had wrapped herself in a house robe and followed her husband to the door. “Minerva?” She asked. “What do you want at this hour? Has something happened to Frankie and Alice?”

“I think it would be Aurors at the door if that were the case, Augusta,” the man said.

“Your son and his family are safe, as far as I know,” Minerva said. “I’ll explain everything once I’m inside.” The man moved to the side to allow Minerva to enter, and she did, placing the basket back down as gently as she could once she was inside the house. “I've come to ask for a favour.”

“At one o’clock in the morning?” Augusta asked. “Silvester, you’d better make some tea.”

Silvester Longbottom was already headed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

“So what is this favour?” Augusta asked. “And why are you carrying a basket with a baby in it anyway?”

“Well, that’s what the favour is about,” Minerva said. “This boy is-”

Augusta looked into the basket. “That child can be no one else but James Potter’s son. He has the same unruly black hair and the same nose. Minerva, did you abduct the saviour of the wizarding world?”

Minerva resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her one-time dorm-mate. “I’d prefer to think of it as a rescue,” she said.

“Rescue or abduction, the question remains exactly what nature of a favour you want from us with regards to young Harry Potter here,” Silvester said, stepping back into the room.

“I need someone who’s willing to look after him until I can find a suitable place for him,” Minerva said.

“Minerva, he should grow up with family. And besides, are you the executor of the Potters’ will? Why is it you that must find a place for him to grow up?” Augusta asked.

“I’ve been watching his family all day,” Minerva said, “and I’m not even certain they’re capable of raising the one son they already do have, let alone another; one who is magical when they themselves are not. From what I saw of them so far, they would resent Harry, and it would be an unhealthy situation for all of them.”

“That doesn't answer why you’re the one looking for a home for him,” Augusta said. “Minerva, I must ask again. Did you abduct Harry Potter?”

“And I must say again, Augusta, I like to think of it as more of a rescue,” Minerva shot back.

“I think that’s the kettle,” Silvester said, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Minerva, if you were watching Harry Potter’s family all day, that means clearly **someone** meant for him to be raised there, and you know I have my suspicions as to who that was,” Augusta said. “Why is it that you have him here now? Why would you go against that person’s wishes? Don’t you usually trust his judgement?”

“I suppose if I’m asking you to take Harry in, you deserve to know," Minerva said. "There hasn’t been a will-reading yet and you know it. Nothing works that quickly. Yet **someone** thought Harry should grow up with Lily’s family regardless of what the will might say. And that someone - and I know your suspicion is correct - decided the best way to give Harry to his new chosen guardians was to leave him unattended in a basket on their porch overnight with only a letter to guarantee everything would go smoothly! I will not apologise for taking matters into my own hands after Albus left.”

“Unattended!” Augusta exclaimed. “All night? Clearly Albus Dumbledore ought to have nothing to do with children under the age of eleven. What if the poor child had woken and toddled into the street?”

“What if, indeed,” Silvester said, returning with tea. “Gus, I think it might be good for us to take in a small child for a short while, don’t you?”

Augusta sniffed. “Well, I certainly think it would be better for Harry than being left unattended on the front step! In November no less! Yes, Minerva, we’ll help you, at least until you can think up a better plan, or until the will is read.”

“Thank you,” Minerva said. “Augusta, I know we don’t always see eye-to-eye on things, but you and Sly really were the best option I could think of.”

Augusta snorted. “Of course we don’t see eye-to-eye,” she muttered. “I usually see eye-to-chest with you.”

“Gus! Do you really think this is an appropriate time for height jokes?” Minerva exclaimed.

“Oh you weren’t making one just now?” Augusta replied. “Since we’re up, will you be staying, or are you going to leave once you’ve finished your tea?”

“I’d hate to disrupt your night more than I already have. Besides, classes were only cancelled for the one day, I have to teach tomorrow.”

“Well, before you leave,” Silvester said, “Would you mind doing something about that basket? It’s hardly a proper crib.”  
“Certainly, just place it where you want it first while it’s lighter and easier to move,” Minerva said.

“What’s this?” Augusta asked, in a tone full of mock-offense. “Neither of you think I’m capable of some simple transfiguration? Minerva here might have been a model student but I did pass my NEWT.”

While Minerva managed to avoid rolling her eyes, Silvester actually did roll his. “Honestly, put the two of you in a room together and you act like seventeen-year-olds all over again,” he said. “I asked Minerva to do the transfiguration because having been asleep until minutes ago, I’m not sure you’re awake enough for child-safe transfiguration, dear.”

“It’s not like I haven’t transfigured a crib for little Neville several times or anything,” Augusta said, the sarcasm thick in her voice. Still, she lifted a sleeping Harry gently from the basket so that Silvester could take it into their spare bedroom, where Minerva transfigured it into a crib.

Once Harry was settled into his new crib for the rest of the night, and once Minerva had drunk her tea, she said goodbye to Augusta and Silvester and apparated back to Hogwarts, hoping to get a few hours’ sleep before having to be up for breakfast and classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to chat, my inbox on tumblr is always open [ereboreanbadger.tumblr.com](http://ereboreanbadger.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> Also, just as a heads up, the next chapter deals with some heavy emotional content and a depiction of psychological trauma. There will be no graphic depictions of what caused the trauma, but I'd rather my readers be safe than not.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains emotional subject matter and depictions/descriptions of psychological trauma. You have been warned.

The morning of November second saw turmoil in the household of Augusta and Silvester Longbottom. Harry Potter woke up quite early in the morning, and finding himself in an unfamiliar location with no familiar people around, promptly began to cry.

Augusta made her way into the spare room, to see him standing in the crib. He stopped briefly to stare at her, and then began to cry again.

“Mamaaa!” he wailed.

Augusta felt her heart drop in sympathy for the child. She picked him up, and held him close despite his squirming, running a hand through his dark curls.

“Mama’s not here, but it’s okay. I’m here, I’ll take care of you.”

“Mama!” the boy sobbed. “Mama. Dada. Unca Siri.”

Augusta gently bounced the boy as she’d done with her own grandson before his parents had needed to go into hiding. “They had to go away, but I’m here. My husband and I will take care of you for them.”

Even with Augusta pulling every trick she knew for calming a crying baby, it took a while for Harry’s tears to quiet. Finally, after a lot of cuddling and soothing from Augusta and doubtless many silly faces from Silvester, the boy seemed more interested in examining his surroundings than crying for his missing parents and uncle. He took a sippy cup of milk from Silvester and drank it.

“Hello little one,” Silvester said. “My name is Silvester, and this is my wife Augusta.”

“Gussa?” Harry asked, pulling the cup away from his mouth.

Silvester laughed. “Well, some people call her Gus, I guess Gussa works too.”

“Gussa. Siver.”

“Or you could call me Sly if that’s easier,” Silvester said.

“Sigh.”

“I don’t think he’s gotten his ‘l’s down yet, Sly,” Augusta said.

Harry held up his milk cup. “Hungee,” he announced.

“Yes, I think breakfast is a very good idea, Harry,” Silvester agreed.

Harry was much calmer for the rest of the day, but Augusta couldn’t help but worry the morning’s first events would repeat themselves for a while yet.

*****

November second brought Minerva a full class schedule and students who were really still too distracted to work. Minerva had almost no time to think about forming a plan of action for what to do about Harry Potter’s living situation. By the time dinner rolled around, she was an exhausted wreck.

Dinner brought with it more bad news in the form of the Evening Prophet. There, taking up the whole cover, was Harry Potter’s godfather, Sirius Black, being dragged away from an exploded muggle street by Aurors, laughing his head off after killing Peter Pettigrew and twelve muggles.

Hagrid’s words from the night before flashed into Minerva’s mind. “Young Sirius Black lent it me.”

Sirius Black had been at Godric’s Hollow yesterday. He’d talked to Hagrid. He’d allowed Hagrid to take Harry to Lily’s muggle family, and even loaned Hagrid his beloved flying motorbike to take Harry there. And now he had killed the quiet, shy, Peter Pettigrew… and twelve muggles at the same time?

There went two potential guardians for Harry in one fell swoop.

Minerva left the Great Hall that night without eating a whole lot. The combination of her shock and horror at the news of the attack and the knowledge that the number of willing or able candidates for raising Harry Potter was rapidly dwindling left her with very little appetite.

Once she was in her quarters, she began to pen a missive.

> _Gus,_
> 
> _I don’t know if you’ve seen the Evening Prophet or heard today’s news from another source, but Sirius Black has been arrested. He cornered Peter Pettigrew on a busy muggle street, and when the latter accused him of working for-_

Minerva was interrupted from her writing by a scratching at the window. Silvester’s barn owl, Trevor, was there with a letter tied to his leg.

Minerva opened the letter. “Stick around,” she told Trevor. “I’ll give you a reply to send.”

> _M-_
> 
> _I just received the evening prophet. Terrible news. Black was James Potter’s best friend, was he not? Well, perhaps he was not, in the end…_
> 
> _Our home saw some upset this morning, and I hope you’re able to solve your problem you needed our help with soon. I fear some stability is needed in this delicate situation, and the sooner the better._
> 
> _-G_

Minerva crumpled her partially written letter and scribbled out a new one.

> _G-_
> 
> _In case you’re not aware, Sirius Black was named Harry Potter’s godfather when the boy was a few months old. I’m a bit in shock._
> 
> _It may take me longer to solve the problem I’ve been puzzling out than I thought. I will do what I can to find a healthy solution in a timely manner, but I do beg your patience as my options are quickly dwindling._
> 
> _-M_

She attached the letter to Trevor’s leg, and once he’d flown away with it, slumped down into her chair. James’ parents had been early targets of You-Know-Who, and after Lily’s father had died of cancer, her mother had apparently had a mid-life crisis combined with her grief and had moved halfway across the world with no forwarding address.

She didn’t want to burden Remus Lupin with the added responsibility of caring for a child, not with his difficulty in securing his own safety and livelihood. Beyond that, he’d have to find a babysitter every full moon.

That left finding out what, if any, instructions were in the Potters’ will… and hoping those instructions didn’t involve Lily’s sister. Minerva had a bad feeling about those muggles.

*****

As Augusta had feared, Harry repeated his upset upon waking for the next several days, as well as waking from nightmares roughly every other night. He did get quicker at calming down when he saw Silvester or herself, however, so she was thankful for that small blessing. Then, midway through November, Harry woke up one morning and called for Gussa instead of Mama. Augusta wasn’t sure how she felt about that development.

Meanwhile, the Auror department was rapidly rounding up suspected Death Eaters and putting them on trial. The same day as Harry had woken up asking for her instead of his mother, Augusta was reading while Harry took an afternoon nap when she received an unexpected fire-call.

“Augusta? Are you available to talk?”

Augusta dropped her book in surprise. She rushed to the fireplace, sure she was hearing things, but there was her daughter-in-law’s head, smiling up at her.

“Alice?” Augusta said, “but you’re supposed to be in hiding! Has something happened?”

“No, no,” Alice said. “Everything’s fine. With the speed at which the rest of the Auror department is rounding everyone up, Frank and I think we’re probably safe to come out of hiding soon, anyway.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Augusta asked.

“Well, I mean, tragic as it was for the Potters, it doesn’t look like there’ll be any dark lords who shall not be named coming after our family any more,” Alice said.

“But what about remaining Death Eaters?”

Alice looked like she was listening to something in the background, and then she laughed. “Frank says to tell you that if you’re worried, you should remember we’re both grown Aurors and we’ve handled worse than a few Death Eaters. Now.. about why I called you.”

“You mean you didn’t just call to tell me you’re planning on putting yourselves in danger?” Augusta said, raising an eyebrow at her daughter-in-law.

“No, actually,” Alice said, grinning. “I called to ask if you and Sly would be willing to watch Neville for a night sometime soon. We haven’t really had a chance to celebrate the end of this rotten war as just the two of us.”

“Of course we will,” Augusta said.

“Good! How does Friday sound? We’d floo over to your place with him, and then come get him at some point on Saturday.”

“Alice, today is Friday,” Augusta said.

“Oh... is it?” Alice asked. “I guess being in hiding with no outside contact, you lose track a bit. Are you able to take him tonight?”

“Of course. I’ll transfigure a crib, just like the last times.”

“Thank you so much, Augusta!”

“You’re welcome.”

Alice looked like she was about to end the firecall, and then stopped and looked thoughtful. “You know, maybe our coming out of hiding will be a good thing. Frank and I were wondering why no one had contacted us, but then, we’re in hiding, and the reading of the will doesn’t always happen for a little bit anyway..”

“What are you talking about?” Augusta asked.

“Well, before all this, Frank and I sat down with James and Lily Potter,” Alice said. “We came to a verbal agreement to amend our wills so that… well, given our agreement and the situation with Sirius Black, and yes, we know about that - we haven’t been **completely** cut off from news - given all that, we should have been the ones willed to take in Harry Potter. Frank and I couldn’t decide whether the Potters’ will hadn’t been read yet or if they’d neglected for some reason to amend it. It wasn’t until just now that I considered the third possibility - that no one’s contacted us because we’re in hiding. But you’d think someone would have contacted **you** , looking for us.”

“You’d think..” Augusta said, trying to decide how to choose her words.

“Well, that’s another matter entirely,” Alice said. “Frank will drop little Nev off with you soon. Give my love to Sly!”

And then she was gone.

Augusta slowly walked back to her chair and sat down, mind reeling. She didn’t move until Harry woke up from his nap, about the same time as Sly got in. She’d just gotten Harry up and settled playing and was telling Sly about the firecall from Alice when the fireplace flared up and Frank walked through into their living room.

Harry looked up, and then beamed at Frank. “Hi!” he said.

Frank looked down at Harry. His surprise quickly morphed into a smile as he crouched down. “Hiya, Harry. Remember me? Frank?”

“Fank!” Harry exclaimed.

“That’s right, kiddo! And this is Neville, he’s my son,” Frank said, placing Neville down next to Harry.

“Hi!” Harry said, grinning at Neville, who hid his face in Frank’s pant-leg in response.

Frank looked at Augusta and Silvester. “So someone **did** contact you! You were just holding out on Alice over the fire-call!”

“Someone contacted us about what?” Silvester asked.

“No, no one contacted us,” Augusta said quickly. “That is, aside from Minerva McGonagall, but we’ve heard nothing about the Potters’ will.”

“But then…” Frank gestured towards Harry, who was trying to give Neville one of his building blocks.

“It’s a long story,” Augusta said.

“You go celebrate with Alice, then bring her with you tomorrow when you come to get Neville. We can get the whole story sorted for all of us then,” Silvester said.

Frank nodded. “That sounds like a plan. Thanks again for looking after Neville tonight. Nev, be a good boy for Grandma and Grandpa, okay?”

Neville looked up and finally noticed his grandparents. He squealed happily, and toddled towards Silvester, who picked him up.

Confident that Neville wouldn’t miss him, Frank gave his mother a quick hug and apparated away.

*****

Augusta and Silvester did not meet with Frank and Alice to discuss Harry Potter the next day. Their breakfast - Sly was impressing young Harry and Neville with a pancake flipping charm - was interrupted by Minerva’s owl, Sulis, flying in and dropping a letter straight into Augusta’s hands and then staring at her with urgent expectation. Augusta feared the worst as she opened the letter, and nearly dropped it when she read the missive inside.

> _A-_
> 
> _There was an attack on your son and his wife last night. Four Death Eaters. The Auror office is working to round them up. Frank and Alice have been taken to St. Mungo’s, delirious from exposure to repeated bouts of the cruciatus curse. Your grandson has not been found._
> 
> _Someone from the ministry will likely be by to inform you, but they’re rubbish at delivering bad news. Please be safe._
> 
> _-M_

Augusta held onto the parchment just long enough to hand it to Silvester. The pancakes stopped flipping as he read the bad news. With shaking hands, Augusta penned a reply.

> _M-_
> 
> _My grandson has not been found because he is in a different location, which we will be working hard to ensure is well warded. Silvester and I will be heading to St. Mungo’s as soon as we have everything in order._
> 
> _Thank you for informing us first before Ministry Officials could do it poorly._
> 
> _-A_

Augusta sank into her chair at the breakfast table and Silvester squeezed her hand and headed into the living room to make some firecalls. She heard him talking to his sister, although her mind would not let her make out the exact words. Neville climbed out of his chair to hug her leg.

“Gam?” he asked, looking up at her with wide, concerned eyes.

“Oh Neville, Grandma’s just found out something very bad,” she said quietly.

Harry handed her one of his pancakes. “Mm,” he said matter-of-factly, as though he believed a pancake could fix everything.

Augusta smiled weakly at the boy. “Thank you, Harry,” she said.

Silvester came back into the kitchen. Augusta’s brother Algernon and Silvester’s sister Enid, he informed her, had agreed to come by to look after the boys and reinforce the wards around the house. Silvester would add his own warding charms after he and Augusta returned from St. Mungo’s. Then the official letter from the Ministry arrived, and it was characteristically worded in a rather unfeeling fashion. Augusta was torn between being indignant that they didn’t even have the heart to arrive in person, and relieved that she wouldn’t have to hide all evidence that there were two small boys in the house, not just the one that might be expected.

When they got to St. Mungo’s, they were met by the sight of a waiting room surprisingly empty, save for a few witches and wizards waiting on the chairs, including a sobbing Emmeline Vance. When Emmeline saw Augusta and Silvester, she dabbed at her eyes and stood up from the chair she was sitting in.

“I’m so sorry!” She exclaimed. “If I’d only just insisted on waiting a little longer to release their secret, none of this would have happened. But Alice was so insistent that everything would be fine and..” the young woman devolved into tears again.

Augusta sighed. So Vance had been the secret-keeper. Well, she **was** a less obvious target than Augusta or Silvester.

Augusta’s thoughts about Emmeline Vance were interrupted by the appearance of the Healer McNider, the head of the Spell Damage ward, a wizard slightly shorter than Augusta herself, with a cheerful demeanor that perhaps didn’t quite fit the situation at hand.

“Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom!” he said, reaching out to shake their hands. “You’ve made it! Good! If you’ll follow me, we have some things to discuss.”

He then walked away, humming quietly. Augusta shared a wary look with her husband before following after the healer.

He led them to the fourth floor and into his office, and ushered them to sit down.

“Now,” he said, “I have some good news! Your son and his wife should be physically healed in no time.”

“That’s… good to hear,” Silvester said, “But from what we’ve been told about the attack, it was mostly use of cruciatus. That doesn’t leave much by way of physical injury.”

“Ah, yes,” Healer McNider said, his cheerful demeanor slipping slightly. “That is where my bad news comes in. The cruciatus, as you know, is an unforgivable curse due to the immense pain the victim experiences. Frank and Alice Longbottom, it seems, did not take well to the magnitude and duration of pain they had to endure. Prolonged exposure to the curse, it seems, has affected their minds, somehow. Magical studies into the mind have always been difficult, and at the present time, we don’t know what the extent of the damage is, or whether it can be reversed.”

“Can we see them?” Augusta asked.

“Of course,” Healer McNider said. “However, I must warn you, they won’t be much for conversation - your daughter-in-law has been rather unresponsive to most stimuli and your son unfortunately has to be kept sedate for the moment - he attacked a healer who came into the room to check on him. Tried to pull her hair out, yelling something about evidence.”

“You don’t think she… resembled one of the attackers, do you?” Silvester asked.

“Well, they were death eaters, weren’t they? All wearing masks, no doubt,” Healer McNider said, dismissively. “Anyway, catching the attackers is the domain of an auror, not a healer.”

Augusta wanted to lash out - scream at the healer - how dare he dismiss such a potential real cause for her son’s actions. If this is the way they look at symptoms it’s no wonder mind-healing is lagging so far behind physical healing!

But Augusta knew she was not a medi-witch and that lashing out would help no one in the end, so she bit her tongue and let her husband guide the conversation.

“Of course,” Silvester said. “How thoughtless of me to imply otherwise. If you would be so kind as to bring us to where you’re keeping our children?”

As the head healer’s demeanor once again became helpful albeit a bit on the cheery side, Augusta felt a wave of gratitude for Silvester’s skill at charming people. She held onto her husband’s hand tightly as she walked with him, following the healer to the room where they were keeping her son and his wife.

As Healer McNider had said, Frank was lying in one of the two beds in the room, apparently asleep, although his face was much paler than it normally was and his expression was far too sombre for her cheerful, gentle, brave son. If she didn’t know he was merely sedated, she would have thought he was dead.

Augusta couldn’t look at Frank for very long, so she turned her attention to the room’s other occupant. Alice was sitting sideways on her bed, staring at the wall, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. Her face, too, was too sombre for the teasing, loud, bold woman that Augusta had grown to care for over the years. Alice’s hands were clenched in her lap, pressing against her abdomen.

She was not any easier to look at.

“Alice?” Silvester asked quietly.

Healer McNider gasped as Alice responded to an outside stimulus for what must have been the first time, turning towards the source of the noise.

However, when she looked at Augusta and Silvester in the doorway, it seemed more like she was looking through them. Her eyes focused on them briefly, tears stopping and a glimmer of hope in her eyes, but then she blinked and once again appeared to be staring into the middle distance.

“Not real,” Alice muttered, her voice cracking. “I couldn’t save them. Now everything’s lost!”

And then the tears began anew.

“Alice,” Silvester tried again. “It’s me, Sly. I’m here. You’re safe in St. Mungo’s now.”

“I’ve lost my husband,” Alice said. “They killed him when she came back. I’ve lost my mind. I can’t see my surroundings! You’re not here! You’re not real! Go away!”

“Ah-” Healer McNider said. “Perhaps it’s best if we didn’t allow them visitors until we can get to the root of this. She’s clearly becoming agitated by your presence.”

To her credit, Augusta made it out of St. Mungo’s and all the way home and into their bedroom away from Harry and Neville before she collapsed on Silvester, crying desperately into his shoulder until Algernon came into the room and offered her a dreamless sleep potion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm happy to talk over at my tumblr, [ereboreanbadger](http://ereboreanbadger.tumblr.com).


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a busy few weeks in the Longbottom home

The next day, Augusta sat down with Silvester, and told him about what Alice had mentioned during her fire-call.

“Well,” Silvester said, “It’s possible that, like Alice said, the Potters didn’t end up changing their will. We’ll have to wait until we know for sure before we make any decisions.”

Augusta agreed.

Two days later, Augusta woke to a toddler crying for his mother. Thinking it was Harry returning to old habits, she got herself out of bed and went into the spare bedroom that was now very much a nursery. The cries, however, were not coming from Harry’s crib, although he was awake and standing up, looking very concerned.

Augusta turned to the other crib in the room. There was her grandson, tears streaming down his cheeks. Augusta forced away the memory of Alice’s very similar crying face days prior and picked Neville up out of his crib.

“Mama and Papa had to go away, you get to stay with Gram and Grampa for a bit,” she said.

Thankfully, Neville snuggled into her and his crying subsided, although he still whimpered and asked for his mama.

“Gussa?” Harry asked. Augusta turned to look at the boy. He was holding out the stuffed crup Silvester had bought for him his first day living with them.

“Thank you, Harry,” Augusta said, taking the offered stuffed animal. “Here, Neville. Do you see this crup? He’s a very brave crup who can help little boys who miss their mamas. But in order to do that, he needs cuddles. Can you give him lots of cuddles?”

Neville looked from Harry to Augusta to the stuffed crup. He nodded solemnly.

Augusta gave him the toy, making a mental note to get a second one as Neville quickly calmed the rest of the way while holding the toy.

Harry nodded in satisfaction before demanding he be picked up as well.

*****

The days ticked by with no word from St. Mungo’s other than that they were still investigating the damage. Meanwhile, the Auror department was faster at its job and the Lestrange brothers - along with Rodolphus’ wife Bellatrix and Bartemius Crouch Jr. - were arrested and promptly tried for the attack and sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban prison. Finally, over a week after the attack, Augusta and Silvester got an owl message requesting a meeting with the head healer at St. Mungo’s, as well as the Minister for Magic herself, Millicent Bagnold. The letter requested they bring Neville with them.

Once again, Augusta and Silvester called on their siblings for aid. Algernon had apparently made a good impression the last time, as Harry happily toddled over to him and raised his arms in expectation of being picked up.

The waiting room at St. Mungo’s was much busier when they arrived this time, full of the usual hustle and bustle of injured entering and leaving the hospital. The welcome wizard at the front desk nodded as soon as he got their names.

“Right, you have a meeting with Healer McNider. He said he’d be down to meet you, but since he’s not, you can feel free to go up to his office on the fourth floor, if you like. Do you know where it is?”

“Yes,” Silvester said, “We remember from last time. Fourth floor, third door on the right.”

“Exactly,” the welcome wizard said. “I’ll let him know I sent you up if he comes down looking for you.”

“Thank you,” Augusta said, and they began the trek up to the fourth floor. On the stairs between the second and third floors, they met Healer McNider.

“Oh!” he said. “I was just headed down to meet you! The Minister arrived just a few minutes ago. Shall we?”

He turned and walked with them up the rest of the stairs. Neville clung shyly to Augusta the whole way up. When they got into Healer McNider’s office, sure enough, the Minister for Magic was there. She wasn’t a tall witch, but she was taller than Augusta. She smiled at them with a hint of sadness.

“Silvester, Augusta. Thank you for meeting with me here. And thank you for bringing your grandson. Hello, little guy!” She smiled at Neville, who buried his face into Augusta’s sleeve.

“A shy one, hm?” The Minister asked. “Well, let’s get to business, shall we? No doubt you’re probably wondering why I’m here for this meeting. Healer McNider, if you will?”

“Frank and Alice Longbottom have shown very few signs of improvement since their treatment here began. We believe they’ll need constant care here for a longer period of time than the ward they’re currently in usually handles. My recommendation is to move them to the Janus Thickey ward.”

“That’s a long term ward,” Augusta said quietly.

“Please, Mrs. Longbottom. You needn’t treat Janus Thickey as a death sentence. With luck and the right restorative potions, your son and his wife may still find themselves on the mend. It will take time, however, and as such, the Janus Thickey ward is best equipped to help them. However, since neither of them is in a state to dictate their medical care, I must ask you and your husband to approve the move in their stead.”

Silvester took Augusta’s hand. “There is still hope,” he said quietly. “But they do need the best care for that hope to come true.”

Augusta sighed, and nodded. “Yes,” she said with some difficulty, “You may move them to the Janus Thickey ward.”

“Now that’s settled,” Minister Bagnold said, “We come to the part of the meeting that I called. You are the closest living and cognizant relatives to either Frank or Alice Longbottom, and as such, since they are not in a state to be able to care for their child for the time being, the Ministry needs to know who is to have custody of young Neville. Are we correct to assume that you will be taking him in until such a time as his parents are able to resume their duties, if such a time comes?”

Augusta did not need to hesitate before answering this question. She held Neville closer, and nodded. “Of course Silvester and I will care for Neville for as long as Alice and Frank need us to!”

An automatic dictation quill on Healer McNider’s desk began scribbling.

“And you understand that should new information come to light regarding the prognosis of Frank and Alice Longbottom’s recovery, that is to say, if it turns out they will likely not recover to the extent where they are capable of caring for a child… you will at that point assume permanent guardianship for your grandson?” the Minister asked.

Augusta looked at Silvester, who was still holding her hand. “We understand,” he said.

“And you understand that if they have not made significant recovery within three months, that you will at that point assume legal authority over matters pertaining their financial state, and will officially gain legal authority to be consulted over any medical decisions that need to be made - although Healer McNider has granted you de facto authority in the meantime?”

“We understand,” Augusta said.

“Good. If that should come to pass, then at that time you will need to file the paperwork, and likely go down to Gringotts and file some paperwork there as well. But for the meantime I wish your son and his wife a speedy recovery.”

The automatic dictation quill stopped scribbling. Minister Bagnold stood, took the parchment, and shook both their hands, then swept from the office.

“Well,” Healer McNider said, “Now that’s dealt with, do you wish to see your son and his wife before they are moved?”

Neville shifted in Augusta’s arms, and she was suddenly very aware of the boy. He’d been missing his parents a lot over the past week, but would it really help him to see them now, when they wouldn’t even recognise him?

Silvester must have been thinking the same thing, because he answered the healer. “I think it’s probably best if we don’t see them right now. If Alice reacted poorly to me, and she’s not much better, I don’t think she’ll react to Neville well, and I doubt the boy would be happy to see his parents as they are.”

“Fair enough,” Healer McNider replied. “I will send you another owl once they’ve been moved and settled into the Janus Thickey ward, provided nothing drastic happens in regard to their recovery.”

*****

Once the boys were in bed that night, Silvester and Augusta sat in the kitchen to discuss their current state.

“They don’t expect Franky and Alice to recover,” Augusta said.

“That doesn’t mean there’s no hope, Gus,” Silvester said.

“But Healer McNider’s attitude towards updates clearly means he sees no sense of urgency in this matter. And they’re moving them to the Janus Thickey ward!”

“As Healer McNider said, it’s not a death sentence.”

“It was for my mother,” Augusta said. “You know that, Sly.”

“I know, Gus,” Silvester replied. “I was there with you for the whole of the three years your mother was in that ward before she died. That doesn’t mean the same thing will happen to Alice and Frank. After all, their spell damage isn’t physical like your mother’s was. It’s just that this sort of situation hasn’t happened before. Healer McNider and Minister Bagnold… they’re just trying to be prepared for the worst. It doesn’t mean we have to stop hoping for the best.”

“I suppose,” Augusta said. “And Alice didn’t seem too far gone, mostly she just seemed like she was still trapped in the nightmarish events that led her to be admitted in the first place. Haven’t muggle soldiers recovered from ailments like that all the time?”

“That’s the spirit,” Silvester said, smiling slightly. “The question does remain, though, of what we’re going to do about Harry. He’s bonded quite well with Neville already.”

“If Frank and Alice are going to be in the Janus Thickey ward for some time… the Potters’ will reading will happen while they’re… unable… to take Harry in,” Augusta said.

“If the Potters did indeed follow their verbal agreement with an amendment to their will, the argument could be made that since we’re the first on Frank and Alice’s list to take in Neville, Harry should go to us as well.”

“And they both seem to be doing so well from having another their age around.”

“So,” Silvester said. “We ought to tell Minerva to stop looking for somewhere for Harry to grow up.”

“But do we tell everyone where Harry is?” Augusta asked. “It really does look like a case of child abduction, especially if the clause about Frankie and Alice taking Harry in isn’t in the Potter will.”

“Well,” Silvester said. “It hasn’t been all over the news that Harry Potter disappeared from his home with his aunt and uncle. That suggests to me that Dumbledore wishes to keep it quiet where he placed Harry, and probably just told whoever may be asking that he found a home he deemed safe.”

“Yes, but would he let people believe we were the place he deemed safe?”

“I think that’s a worry for another day,” Silvester said. “In the meanwhile, there are still a few death eaters at large. It wouldn’t be wise to make the house a target. I think we can wait until the will’s been read, and go from there.”

Augusta nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send Minerva a message in the morning. I do wish none of this had to happen, though.”

“We can’t change the past, Gus.”

“I know,” Augusta said. “It’s a dandelion wish, is all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's pretty much a fair warning at this point that for the rest of this story, and any other parts of the series I manage to write (I'm still hoping and planning to cover the entire scope of the books, because I'm just that ambitious) will have fairly regular mentions or depictions of Alice and Frank and how they're coping (or not, as the case may be). And things will get worse before they settle (there's more coming in the next chapter, just a heads up).
> 
> (My theory about Alice and Frank is that, even though the damage inflicted upon them was magically induced, it should have affected at least roughly the same brain processes as non-magical torture, and had they been treated in, say, a muggle hospital, they may have been diagnosed with PTSD or something similar and received treatment accordingly, and thus may have shown markedly more improvement than they ever did in canon. Now, I know that JK Rowling has said that magically-inflicted wounds don't heal, but I remain unconvinced that this should apply in the case of torture, and so as you can probably tell, I'm putting more of the blame on St. Mungo's having healing magic that hasn't advanced much since the time of St. Mungo himself, than on the idea that the Cruciatus curse leaves behind some residual magic that entirely prevents the mind from healing. And having the first mediwitch to check on them have unfortunately similar hair to Bellatrix Lestrange certainly didn't help Alice and Frank's state either.)
> 
> In happier news, first mention of Dandelion wishes, giving some semblance of reason behind my choice of title.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some correspondence and a revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, a warning - there is a brief description of a character going through a fair amount of psychological trauma in this chapter, along with what might not be the best response from medical professionals.

 

> _November 24, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _They moved Frankie and Alice into the Janus Thickey ward. Sly says not to give up hope, but I fear the healers already have._
> 
> _In slightly happier news, due to recent events, Sly and I thought it best to inform you that you don’t need to keep searching for a solution. Neville could do with the companionship, after all. We also thought it best if this knowledge was kept fairly quiet… none of us need more excitement in our lives right now._
> 
> _I trust you’ll help ensure that if word does get out, it won’t come at a terrible price._
> 
> _Hoping you’re well,_
> 
> _-A_

 

> _November 24, 1981_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _There have been many cases of patients making a recovery who were held in the Janus Thickey ward for a time. I can compile a list if you are concerned. I know your mother was not one of those, but your husband is right to say you mustn’t lose hope._
> 
> _Have you taken Neville to see his parents yet?_
> 
> _Of course I will help you keep your family safe and intact. Thank you for offering up a solution to my puzzle. Does anyone else know, outside you and me and Sly?_
> 
> _-M_

 

> _November 24, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _I’ll take your word for it. You must have grading or something else more important to do that compiling lists of St. Mungo’s patients for me._
> 
> _We have not taken Neville to see his parents. We fear the poor boy would be devastated if his parents do not acknowledge him, and as such it’s best to wait until we can explain to him (if they still have not recovered by that time)._
> 
> _Algie and Enid know, but they have no interest in sharing with the world. They don’t want our family to be subject to any more excitement either._
> 
> _-A_

 

> _November 26, 1981_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _My esteemed boss left for a significant portion of the day for a meeting at Gringotts with the Minister. I think this means the Potter will has finally been read. I assume that it will be filed into the Ministry’s public records by the end of the year._
> 
> _I assume that since you are your son’s next-of-kin there is a plan in place that in the event (heaven forbid) that he and Alice have not recovered within a certain amount of time, you and Sly will be granted legal authority to decide their financial and medical matters?_
> 
> _-M_

 

> _November 26, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _You were James Potter’s favourite professor at Hogwarts, were you not? Do you think there will be anything pertaining to you in their will?_
> 
> _You assume correctly. Healer McNider is already acting on the principle that we have the authority to decide their medical outcomes; he did at least ask us before moving Frankie and Alice into the Janus Thickey ward. As for financial, that will happen after three months, if they have not improved significantly, and will last until they are deemed capable of making those decisions for themselves again. I assume that since we have guardianship of Neville, we would be able to request a key to his trust vault before that point, if we needed to. Which we won’t, so you needn’t worry._
> 
> _-A_

 

> _November 26, 1981_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _I don’t expect to have been left anything in the Potters’ will, although I would be very touched if they had thought of me. I was merely stating an interesting fact. Frank and Alice were close friends with the Potters, I should wonder if you won’t be contacted regarding something left to them, or if the ministry will wait the three months until you’ve been given legal authority over their financial decisions._
> 
> _For the record, I wasn’t worrying. You needn’t reassure me._
> 
> _-M_

 

> _November 26, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _You might have started worrying if I hadn’t reassured you._
> 
> _-A_

 

> _November 26, 1981_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _You’ll continue to believe that no matter what I say, won’t you._
> 
> _-M_

 

> _November 26, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _Of course._
> 
> _-A_

 

> _December 10, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _It turns out we may not need to wait three months. I got an owl from St. Mungo’s this morning. Alice took a turn for the worse last night; she was completely non-verbal when they checked in on her in the evening, and when the night-healer entered the ward partway through the night, she was not sleeping, she was just staring at nothing. Then when the morning-healer came in with breakfast, Alice was on the floor, curled up, hitting herself in the abdomen. She tried to grab a fork from the breakfast tray and had to be sedated to prevent her from seriously injuring herself._
> 
> _Frank’s been lashing out any time he’s not under the influence of a calming draught, which he was under when this happened to Alice. He lashed out despite the calming draught, and it took three orderlies to contain him._
> 
> _Healer McNider says that Frank will have to be kept under heavier sedation now, and if Alice does not begin to speak again within a week, she will likely never start again._
> 
> _Neville seems to understand when he asks after his parents and we tell him they are sick. We may take him to see them on Christmas. I hope he doesn’t find the experience too upsetting._
> 
> _-A_

 

> _December 11, 1981_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _I have not ignored your owl message, the end of term has simply left me with no time to formulate a proper reply._
> 
> _I am no healer, but I for one hope that Healer McNider is wrong in your childrens’ case. You must not give up on hope just yet, Gus, no matter what the legalities of the situation dictate._
> 
> _You must do what’s best for your family. If that means taking Neville to see his parents, just make sure to offer the boy comfort if it does end up causing him upset._
> 
> _-M_

 

> _December 11, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _I’d rather have honesty than rushed platitudes and you know it. Silvester says I mustn’t burden you so with my drama at the end of term but it’s not me who chose when these events would happen._
> 
> _Of course I will comfort the boy! Do you take me for some sort of strict unfeeling grandmother? Little Neville is just a small child - he needs comforting when he’s upset!_
> 
> _-A_

 

> _December 12, 1981  
>  A-_
> 
> _I’ve seen you be a bit on the stern side in the past._
> 
> _-M_

 

> _December 12, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _There’s a muggle phrase about a pot and a kettle that seems like it would be relevant here._
> 
> _-A_

 

> _December 19, 1981_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _Will the Daily Prophet never stop nosing in on people’s affairs that should really stay private?!_
> 
> _Anyway, I need your advice. As you may have read in the paper today, Frank and Alice have not improved. If anything they continue to slowly deteriorate. And as such, Sly and I have been granted legal authority over decisions regarding their finances and medical matters, etc etc, I believe the muggle term is power of attorney…_
> 
> _In any case, upon signing all the paperwork, we received some news. Do you remember our brief discussion about the Potters’ will? It turns out Frank and Alice actually were mentioned in it… if James and Lily died and Sirius Black for some reason was unable to (did they suspect already that he might not be so trustworthy?), guardianship of Harry should be given to Frank and Alice._
> 
> _Since Frank and Alice are at the moment also unable to care for a child, apparently your esteemed boss made the argument that Harry should go to the next safest place as determined by him. However, since Silvester and I have this… power of attorney… over Frank and Alice’s affairs, as well as guardianship over Neville, we could take in Harry in their stead if we so chose._
> 
> _Silvester and I told them we’d think on that and to be honest, I have no idea what to say to that. The boy is well-known and if Silvester and I agree, it will become a matter of the public record, will it not? The poor child would have no privacy! On the other hand, who knows where Dumbledore chose to place him, unless someone else was there when it happened? What if he’s being raised by some sort of magic-hating muggles?_
> 
> _Do you have any brilliant insight into the matter? Even after sleeping on it, Sly and I are having trouble making a decision and formulating a response._
> 
> _-A_

 

> _December 19, 1981_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _That is a bit of a quandary. I think you’re right in that young Harry needs his privacy - while most of wizarding Britain would like more than anything to thank him, there are still a few Death Eaters that haven’t been brought in for questioning yet, despite the efforts of the auror department. If Harry’s location were public, that would be a potential safety risk, on top of the potential for harrassment by the press (and haven’t you had to deal with enough of that already in regards to Frank and Alice?)_
> 
> _I know you’ve had your doubts about Albus over the years, but I’m sure he’s wise enough to place Harry somewhere he’ll be loved and accepted as well as protected. Magic-hating muggles don’t sound like they fit any of those categories._
> 
> _To be honest, I think the solution to your problem is to trust Dumbledore’s choice in a guardian. If Frank and Alice make a miraculous recovery and disagree, then at that point Harry can be moved, but I think Harry’s probably already settled into life in his new home, it wouldn’t be fair to the boy to upheave him again. Harry’s location can become a matter of public record once Harry’s ready for it, this way._
> 
> _It is ultimately yours and Sly’s decision, though, not mine, but I think your concerns over Harry’s privacy outweigh your worries that Albus might have placed the boy somewhere utterly foolish._
> 
> _-M_

*****

There was a reporter for the Daily Prophet sitting in the corner of the room when Augusta and Silvester returned to inform Minister Bagnold of their decision regarding Harry Potter. Augusta fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course there was a reporter in the room.

“I wasn’t aware this was a press conference,” she said.

The Minister smiled. “Forgive my indulgence, but in matters pertaining to the saviour of the wizarding world, the wizarding world has a right to know.”

Augusta looked at Silvester, who looked back at her and nodded. Augusta turned to the Minister.

“In that case, I believe my husband has always been the more eloquent one.”

The Minister looked to Sly. “Mister Longbottom?” she asked. “What is your and your wife’s decision regarding the matter of the Potters’ will?”

“Well,” Silvester said, “Augusta and I had to think long and hard about what’s best for Harry. He’s the saviour of the Wizarding world, after all, and a young boy. He deserves a good home and a loving family, and he deserves a childhood no less normal than any boy his age. And while Augusta and I believe we’d be capable of providing the first two, the fact remains that if we agree to raise him, his living-arrangements will become a matter of public record, and attract all the attention - for good and for ill - that comes with that. The boy would have to live the life of a celebrity before he could even have a chance to live the life of a child.”

“So what is your decision?” The Minister asked.

“Augusta and I believe that Albus Dumbledore is aware of these factors as well, and that he used his wisdom to place Harry in the best and safest place possible, where he can grow up as a normal boy and not be robbed of his childhood. We also believe that Frank and Alice would have wished for Harry to have as normal of a childhood as possible. Furthermore, we believe the boy’s had enough upset in his life and it would hardly be fair to him to pull him from the home he’s undoubtedly settled into just to place him in ours. So we have made the decision that Harry should stay where he’s already been placed, wherever that place is.”

The Daily Prophet reporter was scribbling furiously. Augusta held onto the very faint hope that Silvester’s announcement would not be sensationalised, but she already dreaded the next day’s paper would have a headline like ‘Snubbed Saviour: Longbottoms refuse Harry Potter’.

She was glad her husband had managed never to directly say they were refusing to raise Harry - she wasn’t sure she could have managed an answer that seemed like a straight answer and yet would not look like an outright lie when the truth was inevitably revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always happy to talk over at my tumblr: [ereboreanbadger](http://ereboreanbadger.tumblr.com).


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Albus Dumbledore is much better at the big picture than he is at tracking details.

Christmas came and went, with Augusta and Silvester taking Neville to St. Mungo’s to see his parents while Harry played happily with a new toy train set he’d been given by Algernon, under the careful watch of Enid. If bringing Neville to see Alice and Frank had once been the key to their recovery, it was too late for that now. Alice patted Neville gently on the head when the boy ran to her, but she didn’t really seem to see him, and certainly didn’t recognise him. Frank was lying on his hospital cot, staring at the ceiling, most likely under the influence of some sort of magical sedation. He didn’t respond at all when Neville approached him.

Neville, for his part, took this all in with remarkable grace for a toddler who wasn’t even two, returning to Augusta and burying his face in her shoulder in order to cry quietly. “No Ma.” he whimpered. “No Pa.”

After that upset, the Longbottom household settled back into a routine, with Augusta looking after the boys during the weekdays while Silvester did his work in charms research, and Silvester being the primary caregiver on the weekends to give Augusta some time to get down into her potions lab. Algernon and Enid came over on occasion, sometimes to watch the boys so Augusta and Silvester could go to St. Mungo’s, and sometimes just to watch the boys, as both seemed rather taken with them.

The year passed peacefully enough, without any prophet reporters attempting to snoop in on Longbottom family drama (it probably helped that Augusta and Silvester had decided years before to leave the ancestral homes of their families to their siblings and now lived on a rather quiet muggle street). The next Christmas, Augusta and Silvester again took Neville with them to visit St. Mungo’s, and again neither Alice nor Frank seemed to recognise their son, although this time around, both were awake and seemingly conscious, if not entirely cognizant. Augusta took that as a good sign.

Neville took the vacantness of his parents with more grace than the year before, although he still looked up at Augusta with extremely sad eyes as they left, and murmured, “Mama gone. Dada gone.”

Several times throughout that year, Augusta got the strong feeling that the other shoe was about to drop - that things could not be this peaceful. However, life continued on, and in fact it was nearing the summer of 1983 before anything out of the ordinary happened with regards to Harry Potter, and even that didn’t affect him directly.

It mostly affected Albus Dumbledore.

He was in his office, waiting for the end of term, when an owl flew in the window. It was a Diagon Alley Post Office owl, and he looked at the letter it had delivered with some curiosity. The envelope was made from paper rather than parchment and was addressed,

> _Professor Albus Dumbledore_  
>  (Wizengamot, Order of Merlin, and all that)  
>  Headmaster’s Office  
>  Hogwarts  
>  Wherever in Scotland that bloody school even is 

The writing looked familiar, but not enough to be instantly placeable. Albus did a quick diagnostic scan to be sure the letter wasn’t cursed (it wasn’t often that one sent through the public post was, but it wasn’t never either), and opened it once it appeared to be utterly unenchanted.

The letter inside was also on paper rather than parchment. Perhaps the parent of a muggleborn student had something to complain about? They’d waited a little long to send in their complaint, if that was the case.

> _Albus,_
> 
> _I’ve held my tongue out of respect for this long, but there’s only so much a woman can take before she has to speak up. You asked me to keep an eye on Harry Potter and I’m doing my best, but he has to be the very worst behaved saviour of the wizarding world I’ve ever seen! He’s rude, demanding, and downright bratty, and I know there’s such a thing as the terrible two’s but he’s been like this all along. And to make matters worse, he’s utterly spoilt by his guardians. He will not grow up well in a situation like this, and I must say if I didn’t know you’d placed the boy here personally and if you hadn’t pointed the house out to me personally, I would think there was some mix-up. The boy does look rather convincingly like the son of the couple who lives here._
> 
> _There has to be another way for the boy to be raised in safety - the family you have placed him with is a nightmare and the boy is turning into quite a horrible child. I cannot watch this happen and stay silent. In fact, I fear I may have watched in quiet disapproval too long. You must move the boy before it’s too late!_
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Arabella Figg_
> 
> _PS: I certainly hope you didn’t suggest the fake name the couple has been calling Harry. What kind of name is Dudley, anyway?_

Albus re-read the letter, his hands shaking. Arabella thought that the Dursleys’ son was Harry? He thought about sending her a reply owl, but some sort of intuitive sense told him he’d better see to it in person.

He passed Minerva McGonagall on the stairs towards the entrance hall as he hurried down them.

“Albus, wherever are you headed in such a rush?” she asked.

“I have urgent business, Minerva. I will return as soon as I am able,” Albus replied, before making his way out the main doors.

His stride did not slow until he reached his destination - the Hogwarts gates. As soon as he was off the grounds, he disapparated, only to appear in Arabella Figg’s kitchen.

Arabella was also in her kitchen. She turned as soon as she heard the pop of someone Apparating, and visibly relaxed once she realised who it was.

“Goodness, Albus!” She said. “You could have sent a warning you’d be popping by! And yes I know I sent you that owl saying Harry needed to be moved, but it’s hardly as urgent as you apparating into my kitchen!”

“Arabella,” Albus said. “May I ask why you think Dudley is Harry Potter? Dudley is the Dursleys’ son. Harry is the other boy in that household.”

Arabella blinked at Albus for a few seconds, frowning. Finally she spoke. “You daft coot, what other boy? That horrible family only has one awful son!”

*****

About an hour later, Minerva McGonagall was sitting in her office, grading the second years’ written exams, when Albus Dumbledore knocked on her door.

“Yes, Albus?” she asked. “How did your earlier business wrap up?”

Albus, for his part, didn’t look nearly as panicked as he had when she’d seen him rushing out of the castle. His eyes, however, didn’t have their usual twinkle. “Ah yes. About that…” Albus walked into her office and shut the door. “Minerva, I know you stayed quite a while before returning to Hogwarts the night after the attack on the Potters. You… did see Harry taken into the Dursleys’ home, did you not?”

Minerva stared at her employer. “Albus, it’s been over a year since you left the boy alone on that doorstep, and it only now occurred to you that you might wish to check on him? You are an absolute nightmare!”

“I’ve been busy at Hogwarts. He hasn’t been abandoned - I asked Arabella Figg to move onto Privet Drive to keep an eye on him,” Albus said, matter-of-factly. “But again I must ask. You _did_ see Harry taken into the house, did you not?”

Minerva quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you ask? Is he not there now?”

“Arabella Figg seems to be confused and under the impression there is only one boy growing up at Privet Drive. Alas, I fear they may be keeping Harry inside the house, in a misguided interpretation of my letter to Lily’s sister.”

Minerva stared at Albus, who was looking at her with his clear blue eyes. “If that were the case, you would not be asking me if I saw him taken in by the Dursleys,” she said carefully. “I think you’re afraid he’s not there at all. No, I did not see Harry taken into Number Four, Privet Drive, because he never went inside Number four, Privet Drive.”

“Minerva,” Albus said, “Where is Harry?”

“He’s somewhere safe,” Minerva said, turning her attention back to the test she was grading.

“The only safe place for him is where his mother’s family is living,” Albus said.

Minerva put the test to the side. “Explain to me, Albus, how leaving a toddler on a doorstep alone overnight when he might awaken at any time and wander out into the street is safe. Explain to me how placing him in the care of muggles when there are still Death Eaters at large is _safe_.”

If Minerva had been looking closely, she might have seen Albus shift his weight, and she might have discerned from his body language that he was somewhat uneasy with how this conversation was going. “He needs to be with his aunt, because I sealed a charm - as long as he calls home the place where his mother’s blood dwells, there Voldemort cannot touch him.”

Minerva felt a slight pressure in her temples telling her she had a headache coming on. “There… as in the house? Albus, whatever would happen when the boy inevitably went outside? He’d have nothing but two muggles to protect him!”

“Don’t forget Arabella lives on the same street.”

“... two muggles and a squib,” Minerva said. “And tell me, did you provide Arabella with a way to contact you quickly in an emergency, or must she send an owl?”

“I-”

“And why does it have to be his Mother’s blood?” Minerva continued. “As far as I’m aware, James also died to save Harry. And the Potters, after all, are a very old pureblood family. Could the ward not then be constructed for any pureblood family that has a Potter in their ancestry?”

“It would not be as strong - the more distant the relation, the less blood shared.”

“It would be compensated for by the fact that he’s living with fully trained members of wizarding society - people who can protect him if and when he leaves his house,” Minerva said.

“And which members of wizarding society, exactly, would be the ones looking after Harry?” Dumbledore asked. His tone was mild, but his eyes were keen.

“I don’t believe it’s wise for me to share that information, Albus,” Minerva said. “Not when I’m not sure you’re not simply asking because you still think your ridiculous ‘blood’ ward is more able to keep Harry safe.”

“When - and it’s not an if, it’s a when - Voldemort returns, it’s the only thing that will keep Harry safe at home,” Albus said.

“And again I ask, what happens when - and that’s not an if it’s also a when - the boy leaves the house?”

Albus did not respond.

“I thought so,” Minerva muttered. “Albus, I’m sure you’re not about to let this matter drop so easily, or you would not be yourself. However, I have a lot of tests to grade, and not a lot of time left to grade them.”

“I will find out where you placed young Harry,” Albus said.

“I’m sure you will, in time,” Minerva agreed. “Now, may I get back to my work?”

To Minerva’s slight surprise, Albus left without further argument.

She went back to her grading, and made a mental note to practice some basic Occlumency drills, in case Albus decided to try to solve the puzzle she’d presented him through slightly less than ethical means.

Once her grading was finished, she began to compose an owl message, but changed her mind and threw it out, only to start over. Halfway through, she again changed her mind and started over. Eventually she simply put the blank parchment away. She could send the owl after she was in her quarters for the night.

*****

> _June 18, 1983_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _Once again the term is almost over. It really is a shame I never made it round for tea like we'd planned over the last break. Perhaps if we plan it for the beginning of the break, it will have less chance to be cancelled._
> 
> _-M_

> _June 18, 1983_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _The first half of July is a bit busy- Sly has a major deadline on the 15th, and will no doubt be working extra, and both Algernon and Enid are shipping off to Spain. Tea is not impossible but you'll have to forgive my distraction as I'll need to mind young Neville in addition to playing hostess, unless you can make it before July starts._
> 
> _-A_

> _June 18, 1983_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _The sooner the better, I think. The end of term feast is on the 27th, so I may be able to make it before the start of July. In any case, I don’t mind you looking after Neville and since when have you really played hostess when I’ve come over for tea?_
> 
> _How does the 29th or 30th sound?_
> 
> _-M_

> _June 18, 1983_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _Are you insulting my skills at hosting tea? The 30th is probably better, since Silvester should be home._
> 
> _-A_

> _June 18, 1983_
> 
> _A-_
> 
> _I shall see you on the 30th at tea time, then._
> 
> _-M_

> _June 18, 1983_
> 
> _M-_
> 
> _Tea will be served at 4._
> 
> _-A_

*****

Minerva walked up to the house on Halifax Road where Augusta and Silvester lived at precisely four o’clock and knocked on the door. Almost immediately, she heard what sounded like a small boy’s voice - the exact words were muffled, but she was sure it was one of the boys alerting Augusta to the fact there was a visitor.

The door opened shortly after, and she saw Silvester’s smiling face.

“Minerva! It’s great to see you! Come in,” he said.

Minerva stepped into the house. The boys were playing some sort of game with a toy hippogriff and a toy pegasus, although the darker of the boys was quickly distracted by inspecting this new person in their home. He looked at Minerva with his green eyes sparkling and grinned.

“Hi!” he said. “I’m Harry!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Harry,” Minerva said, smiling. “My name’s Minerva.”

Harry started laughing. “Tha’s funny,” he said between giggles.

“Now Harry,” Augusta said, entering the main room, “It’s not nice to tell people their names are funny.”

Harry stopped giggling. “Sorry,” he said.

Minerva smiled down at the boy. “It’s okay, Harry. Sometimes I think my name is a bit funny, as well.”

Harry beamed up at Minerva in response.

“Neville, honey, say hello to Miss Minerva,” Augusta said.

Neville, who had been hanging back behind Harry, looked down at his feet. “H’lo,” he said, so quiet Minerva could barely hear him.

“Louder, dear,” Augusta said. “And look at her when you’re talking to her.”

Neville looked up at Minerva, although he seemed reluctant to. “Hullo,” he said, a bit louder.

“Hello, Neville,” Minerva said, smiling at him.

“Now, lets all get settled for tea,” Augusta said.

Tea went smoothly, although Neville had to be prompted to speak and any time he did, he was so quiet that usually Harry had to repeat what he’d said. Harry, on the other hand, was much more outgoing, although as he got more excited about the story he was telling Minerva, his pronunciation slipped towards the unintelligible.

Afterwards, the boys went back to playing. Minerva stayed in the kitchen as Silvester quickly levitated the dishes over to the sink to begin washing themselves before going out to the front room himself.

“I know you didn’t only come for tea,” Augusta said. “You would have been fine to wait until August if all you wanted was to come ‘round for tea. Something happened, didn’t it? Something you didn’t know how to write in a letter and didn’t want to risk having someone walk into your office and overhear you talking in a firecall.”

Minerva nodded. “I found out something very interesting that day. Albus hadn’t personally checked on Harry since leaving him on his aunt’s doorstep that one night.”

Augusta snorted derisively. “As much as I think that’s ridiculous of him, I can’t help but say I’m not surprised. The man is terrible at details! As well as terrible at anything to do with young children, it seems. So he had no one watching the house at all?”

“No, it seems he’d asked Arabella Figg to keep an eye on Harry… I actually spoke with her myself between then and now and it turns out he never told her there was a second boy living in that house. So she watched Harry’s cousin for a year and a half, until finally her patience ran out and she contacted Dumbledore that there was no way this was a good idea. Apparently Harry’s Aunt and Uncle spoil their son rotten.”

“So how did you find out about this?” Augusta asked.

Minerva smiled sadly. “Well, I was there when Albus was leaving Harry on the doorstep, wasn’t I? And I left after Hagrid did and didn’t tell Albus where I’d be going and wasn’t waiting for him at Hogwarts when he returned. So he came to me to ask if I’d actually seen Harry taken inside that house.”

“And you told him…?” Augusta asked.

“I believe I called him a nightmare and told him that of course I didn’t because he’s not there.”

“Minerva!”

“What?” Minerva asked. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have had choice words for him were you in my situation. I respect Albus, of course I do, but as you yourself said, the man is bad at details at times.”

“Still, I doubt he reacted well to you telling him you know where Harry is and it’s not where he was placed. Albus isn’t used to people questioning his judgement.”

“Oh, he’ll be expecting it more from me now, I’m sure. I told him exactly what I thought of Harry’s placement and how unsafe it was, and that Harry was going to be raised by full members of wizarding society, who could capably protect the boy if necessary. Then he started going on about some protective charm and where the blood of Harry’s mother dwells-”

“Blood wards?” Augusta said. “Well, don’t tell Silvester, he’ll rant for ages how that’s a ridiculous notion. Not that he’d be wrong, but-”

Silvester appeared at the doorway. “I think you mentioned me?” he said.

“Minerva here was just telling me how her ever-esteemed employer thought a single blood protection charm and some supervision by a squib would keep young Harry well-protected.”

“A blood protection charm?” Silvester asked. “As the sole type of warding?”

“I’d assume so, as he didn’t mention any other wards when I asked him about it,” Minerva said.

“Blood wards are ridiculously limited in scope,” Silvester said, “Unless Albus knows of one that I haven’t uncovered in my current research, there’s no reason to rely on one over conventional warding. Yes, they provide complete protection, but only from a specific threat. The extra difficulty in sealing a blood ward is not usually worth it - more conventional warding can easily compensate for the lack of weaknesses a blood protection charm offers.”

“We have wards surrounding the entire block,” Augusta said.

Minerva nodded. “In any case, Albus is now aware that I know Harry’s location, and that I’m currently refusing to tell him what said location is, since I’m not sure he’s in agreement that having Harry raised by wizards is better. I don’t believe he’s attempted to steal the answer from me yet, but I believed you ought to be warned that despite my best efforts, he may find out.”

At that moment there was a clattering from the other room. All the adults hurried toward the noise on instinct. Neville was sitting on the floor next to one of the end tables, and the lamp that had been on the end table was on top of him, the lampshade bent and torn. Harry was standing nearby.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed. “We was playin’ per-tend Quid’ch an’ I chased Nev too hard now the lamp’s broke.”

“Sorry,” Neville echoed quietly.

Silvester picked up the lamp and placed it back on the table, casting a quick reparo on the lampshade.

“Are you alright, Neville?” Augusta asked.

Neville rubbed at his forehead. “I hit my head,” he said quietly. Silvester picked him up and began inspecting his forehead, where his pale skin was already turning the slight purple colour of a bruise and a lump was beginning to form.

“Louder, dear-” Augusta said, only to be interrupted by Harry.

“He hit his head when he falled,” Harry said. “Hey Gussa how come you can’t never hear Neville? I can an’ Sly can. Right Sly?”

“Harry Potter!” Augusta admonished, but she was again interrupted when Minerva began to chuckle.

“Minerva! Don’t encourage him!”

“Sorry, Gus,” Minerva said. “But why DO you have trouble hearing Neville, I wonder?”

“My hearing’s fine,” Augusta sniffed. “Neville is just so much quieter than everyone else. The boy’s always been a shy one.”

“You know I’m sure there’s a companion spell to sonorus that you can cast on your ears. Or if not, maybe Sly can research one,” Minerva said, smirking.

“I don’t need a spell to help my hearing,” Augusta said.

“Of course not,” Minerva said, but the smirk didn’t leave her face.

"Will Neville be alright?" Augusta asked, abruptly changing the topic.

"He'll be right as rain in just a moment," Silvester said. "Hold still for me, Nev. Grandpa's going to make it better."

With a quick charm, the lump on Neville's forehead quickly shrank.

"Thank you grampa," Neville whispered. Silvester kissed him on the forehead and set him down.

Minerva felt something tug at her sleeve. She looked down to see Harry there, his green eyes the same colour as his mother’s so distinct against the tan skin he’d inherited from his father. He was smiling.

"I like you 'Ner-va," he announced.

Needless to say, Minerva returned from tea with a lighter heart than when she'd arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may actually have three chapters left - two full chapters and an epilogue... or I may tack the epilogue scene onto the end of the last chapter.
> 
> The next chapter is mostly written, although it does need some tweaking, and there's one scene I abandoned partway through that I'll either have to complete or remove.
> 
> A quick note on this story's take on the character of Albus Dumbledore. He's a somewhat complex character within canon, and while this story will not portray him as a wholly wise benevolent figure who can do no wrong, neither will this story be an "Evil Dumbledore" story where he's portrayed as though he should never be trusted with anything ever. He's manipulative, certainly, but in this story it should hopefully be clear that his manipulative tendencies are more out of oversight than any true malevolence. With Minerva McGonagall questioning his actions with more vehemence, he may come to see that the "for the greater good" ideal he probably thought he'd grown out of after it was twisted by Grindelwald, has still managed to insinuate its way into colouring his actions. So basically, Albus is a good wizard with strong plans, but those plans are too much about ideals and not enough about the people involved.


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues at the house on Halifax Road, and some explanations are given to the boys.

Time passed, as it has the tendency to do, and sooner than Augusta or Silvester would have expected, the question of what to do for the boys' pre-Hogwarts education arose, in the form of an offhand comment from one of the Muggle neighbours.

“Those boys must be getting old enough to start school, mustn't they?” Jane Hansen said to Augusta one day, as they paused for a polite greeting upon passing each other on the street.

This comment set off a long discussion between Augusta and Silvester, and in the end, after weighing out all the possible risks and rewards, they concluded that the best course of action would be to register the boys in the local muggle primary school.

“Blending into the muggle world is a skill that's much more useful than it seems at first, after all,” Silvester said.

And so, paperwork was filed, and time continued to pass, and Augusta was surprised one day when she looked at the calendar and noted the date. A trip to St. Mungo's was in order, and soon.

A few days later, Augusta was watching Harry and Neville play in the back garden. She was doing all she could not to think about her son and daughter-in-law, not to remember that the day before had been the anniversary of their wedding, and they’d spent it in the Janus Thickey ward, unaware of the occasion and unaware of their visitors. The boys were bent over something, though she couldn’t see what, until Neville turned around and approached her, cradling a dandelion that had gone to seed.

“It’s a wishing dandelion,” Neville said, holding it out for her to inspect. He had started to find his voice over the past few years, although Augusta still had to make some effort to hear him at times.

“Are you going to make a wish?” Augusta asked.

Harry came over and stood beside Neville. “We thought maybe you could make a wish. Adults never get to make wishes. Not even Uncle Algie, and he’s the one who told us how to wish on dandelions. Besides, you’re so sad today, you need a wish more than we do.”

Neville, Augusta realised, wasn’t holding it to her for her to look at it, but for her to take it. She gently took the seed head from her grandson and blew the seeds away. She’d have to put down a fresh weed-eating potion to protect her garden plot, but it was worth it.

“What did you wish for?” Harry asked.

“It’s supposed to be a secret,” Neville scolded.

“I know! But I can still ask!” Harry said.

“But it has to be a secret or it won’t come true!” Neville said.

“Don’t worry, Neville,” Augusta said. “It already has.”

*****

The boys went off to school in the fall, and both took to it in their own way. Harry very much enjoyed any time that the children were encouraged to be active, proving rather skilled at the playground games. Neville, on the other hand, was most in his element when activities took them outside to interact with nature.

“I think we have a budding quidditch star and a future top Herbologist on our hands, Gus,” Silvester said one day, when both the boys had come home covered in dirt, albeit for different reasons.

When Christmas came around that year, with it came the tradition of taking Neville to St. Mungo’s to see his parents while Harry stayed behind with Algernon and Enid. However, this year, perhaps because the boys had spent the last few months around other children - children who weren’t raised by their grandparents (or adoptive foster “grandparents” as the case may be), or perhaps simply because of curiosity, the tradition didn’t go quite the way it usually did.

This year, questions were asked.

First, it was Harry, almost immediately after Silvester, Augusta, and Neville had left. He turned to Algernon.

“Uncle Algie,” he said, “I know I can’t go with Gran and Grampa and Nev wherever in the magic world they’re going ‘cause of the bad man who killed my parents, but why do they have to go anywhere? It’s Christmas, it should be spent with family.”

Algernon shared an uneasy look with his good friend and sort of sister through marriage. She shrugged at him as if to say ‘well, he asked you not me.’

“Has anyone told you what happened to Neville’s parents, Harry?” he asked.

“Did they get killed by the bad man, too? Are they going to visit his parents’ graves? If they got killed by the bad man, why can Neville go when I can’t? Is it because the bad man never tried to kill him?”

“No, the bad man didn’t do anything to Neville’s parents,” Algernon said. “And they’re not actually dead. But some… friends… of the bad man got mad and hurt Neville’s parents because they thought Neville’s dad would know where the bad man went after he killed your parents.”

“But that was forever ago! If they just got hurt, shouldn’t they have gotten to a doctor and the doctor made them better?”

“The doctor thinks they were hurt so much that they kind of forgot where they were and maybe even who they were. But even so, your gran and grampa and Neville think it’s a good idea to visit them, in case they remember. And even if they don’t remember, they’re family, and like you said, Christmas should be spent with family.”

“Oh,” Harry said quietly, looking quite sad, before Enid managed to distract him with one of the toys he’d received that morning. He was quite a bit happier by the time the three who’d left returned.

Before they returned, however, Neville had some questions of his own. They were just leaving St. Mungo’s when he grabbed Augusta’s hand and looked up at her.

“Gran, how come Harry never gets to go see his parents?”

Augusta stopped suddenly on the stairwell and looked around. She thanked whatever powers must have been looking out for her that there was no one else in that stairwell and all the portraits looked to be empty or sleeping.

“I’ll have to explain that when we get home, Neville,” she said. “We can’t talk about it around other wizards, remember?”

“But why?” Neville asked. 

Augusta sighed. “Neville, I’ll have to explain that when we get home, too.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended and Silvester gave her a reproachful look.

Neville looked at the ground. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Augusta pursed her lips. She didn’t know how to explain to Neville why they had to wait until they got home without it sounding suspicious, and even if those portraits looked like they were asleep, there was no real guarantee they actually were.

“Home is more comfortable to talk about these kinds of things than a stairwell is, anyway,” Silvester said, smiling down at their grandson. “Besides, there’s still some leftover pie at home, just waiting for you to eat it.”

Neville perked up a bit at that, and they made it back home without further incident. Harry was happily playing with Enid and Algie, but both adults looked up at Augusta in a way that suggested the time they’d been gone hadn’t been as peaceful as it seemed to be. Augusta made a mental note to talk to her brother, before entering the kitchen with Neville and closing the door. 

“Neville,” she said. “Do you remember when your grandfather and I told you that a bad man killed Harry’s parents?”

Neville nodded. “Uh-huh, but what does that have to do with Harry not visiting his parents?”

“Well, killed means they’re gone for good. Harry can’t visit his parents like you can visit yours because they’ve gone on to the next adventure and they can never come back.”

Neville’s eyes got wide. “Never ever?”

“Never ever,” Augusta said, remembering a similar conversation she’d had with Harry and wondering why she hadn’t included Neville in that conversation in the first place.

“Oh..” Neville said. “But why couldn’t you tell me this at St, Mungo’s?”

“Well,” Augusta said, “The bad man that killed Harry’s parents… he was very bad, and he had a lot of friends who were bad too.”

“Yeah, some of them hurt Mum and Dad,” Neville said.

“Yes. Well, the night the bad man killed Harry’s parents, he tried to kill Harry too. But for some reason, he couldn’t.”

Neville stared at Augusta, as if waiting for her to finish her thought.

“Something happened when he tried to kill Harry,” Augusta said. “And the bad man hasn’t been seen anywhere since. Basically everyone in the wizarding world took this to mean that Harry saved them from the bad man and his friends. They all no doubt want to thank him for that.”

“But Harry was just little!”

Augusta nodded. “Yes. He was. So when your grandfather and I took him in, we wanted him to be able to grow up as a normal boy, without getting owls all day and night from most of wizarding Britain, so we didn’t tell anyone we’re the ones raising him.”

Neville looked thoughtful. “So you couldn’t talk about Harry at St. Mungo’s in case someone heard you and found out the secret.”

“That’s right,” Augusta said.

“But there was no one in the stairwell!”

“There were a number of paintings in the stairwell. One of them may have heard something and decided to tell their friend in another painting, who might have told someone outside a painting.”

“I forgot paintings move so much,” Neville said quietly. “I’m sorry, Gran.”

Augusta put her hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Neville, look at me.”

Neville looked up after a few moments.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Your grandfather and I didn’t tell you that Harry is a secret. I should have… found a better way to delay answering you.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Neville asked.

“Of course I’m not mad at you!” Augusta said, taken aback.

Neville looked at Augusta for a few more moments. Then he slowly smiled. “Can I go play with Harry now?”

Augusta found herself smiling back. “Of course.”

Neville went out into the front room, and not long after, Algie made his way into the kitchen. 

“So,” he said. “Harry didn’t know anything about what happened to Frank and Alice.”

Augusta sighed. “And I suppose he asked while we were gone?”

Algie nodded.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that some friends of the bad man who killed his parents - interesting euphamism for You-know-who, by the way - hurt Neville’s parents so bad they forgot where they were.”

“Nothing specific?”

“Gus, the boys are five. I think it’s a bit early for treatises on unforgivable curses.”

“And Harry didn’t question your explanation?”

“He initially asked why a doctor didn’t just fix them, but he accepted that the doctor thinks they’ve forgotten who and where they are. I just wanted you to know so if he does come up with more questions, you know where they’re coming from.”

Augusta nodded. “Thank you, Algie.”

*****

That night, after they were in bed, Harry lay awake, thinking about what Uncle Algie had told him. He wished sometimes that his parents weren’t gone for good and that he could see them, but the thought of seeing his parents and having them not recognise him seemed even less appealing than them being gone forever.

“Neville?” he asked, quietly, wondering if his adopted quasi-brother was also still awake.

“Yeah?” came the reply from the other bed.

“I asked Uncle Algie and he said your parents can’t remember who they are. Can they remember who you are?”

There was a pause before Neville replied, “No, when we visit, it’s like I’m a stranger. Mum always gives me gum wrappers, though.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

Yeah, having parents treat you like a stranger definitely sounded worse than having parents who were gone forever.

“Neville?” Harry said.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry your parents aren’t gone forever.”

There was complete silence after Harry said that, and Harry realised that his words had come out all wrong.

“I mean,” he said. “I’m sorry they don’t remember who you are at all. I dunno if I’d want to see my parents again if I could only see them and have them not remember who I was at all. I wish your parents weren’t gone at all but I’m sorry they don’t remember you.”

“Oh,” Neville said.

Harry wanted to bury himself under his sheets and pretend to be asleep for the entire next day if it meant he didn’t have to remember how badly he’d tried to comfort Neville.

“Harry?” Neville asked, after another period of silence.

“Yes?” Harry asked.

“I’m sorry your parents are gone forever,” Neville said. “Mum and Dad might not remember me, but at least I can still see them, and Mum does always give me gum wrappers and pat me on the head, so she must at least remember I’m someone she likes. At least maybe someday they might remember. Your parents are gone, Gran says, and they can never come back. I’m sorry you never get to see them, whether they’d remember you or not.”

“Oh,” Harry said.

“Goodnight, Harry,” Neville said through a yawn.

“Goodnight, Neville,” Harry replied, his thoughts finally slowing down, even though he continued to attempt to think about what Neville had just told him.

He didn’t have to hide under his sheets in mortification the next morning, after all, and that thought, it seemed, was enough to calm Harry’s mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the next chapter includes major character death.
> 
> Also, I still haven't decided whether the epilogue scene will be posted as its own chapter or as a scene at the end of the next chapter. We're nearing the end of the major pre-hogwarts parts of the tale here, and I admit, the next chapter will open some loose ends that likely won't be tied up until they're mentioned in passing in the second part of the story.
> 
> As always, I'm always available to talk at my tumblr: [ereboreanbadger](http://ereboreanbadger.tumblr.com).


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in my notes on the last chapter, this chapter is the reason the fic has the character death archive warning.

Either Albus Dumbledore had forgotten about Harry Potter's mystery location, or he'd given up on finding it out from Minerva, or he was merely biding his time. As the years wore on, however, the time grew significantly between conversations where Albus would stare at Minerva consideringly while mentioning an encounter with a wizarding family.

There were other things to think about. A new batch of students arrived, much smaller than the average class size, and it threw into stark reality just how long Voldemort's reign of terror had been. The class size the next year was just as small, and Minerva was saddened to know this pattern would continue for several more years yet.

Meanwhile, on Halifax road, an older couple continued to raise two young boys – their grandson, and the son of some cousin or other, who tragically had no closer family, and whose parents had died in the same tragedy that had left the couple's son and his wife in a largely vegetative state, the poor dears.

Or at least, that was what the neighbours and the school officials thought. In reality, the story was much more violent and the “cousin” did have some closer relatives, but they'd been seen as unfit to raise an adopted child and he'd been quietly removed from their doorstep before he could be forced into a childhood of being bullied.

Not that Harry was never bullied; he was a bit smaller than average no matter how much Augusta tried to feed him up, and some of the older schoolchildren didn't realise that he was as athletic as he was scrawny and saw him as easy pickings. What made matters worse was that Harry would pick fights with anyone who saw his quieter cousin/adopted brother/best friend as easy pickings as well, on account of how shy Neville was.

This got him into a bit of trouble one day in his third year at the school, when he picked a fight with a larger group of schoolyard bullies than he could handle and ended up separated from Neville and fleeing, looking for a place where his pursuers couldn't get to him... and ended up on top of the garden shed, with no idea how he'd managed it. He certainly didn't remember climbing it.

Of course at that moment was when a teacher saw him, and he got in trouble for climbing school buildings. He spent the rest of the day waiting; waiting for the headmistress to finish lecturing him about how it was _dangerous_ and _irresponsible_ \- and then not listening to his defense that he was running from bullies and didn't actually know how he'd managed to get up on the garden shed but he certainly hadn't climbed it; waiting for Augusta to arrive after she'd been contacted; waiting while Augusta and the headmistress talked privately...

When Augusta left the office, she looked a strange mix of exasperated and... proud?

“I'm to take you home for the rest of the day, but you won't be punished by the school beyond that,” she said. “She mentioned bullies – Harry, were you picking fights again?”

“They were making fun of Neville!” Harry said. “They took his book away! And I didn't climb the garden shed. I don't know how I got on its roof but I didn't climb it. I was looking for somewhere they couldn't get me and then I was on it.”

“We're going to have to have a family talk,” Augusta said, her voice tight, and then she signed Neville out of school early as well.

Harry was confused as they headed home; usually when he got in fights over bullying, Gran at least told him not to, or to get a teacher instead. Why wasn't she lecturing him this time?

When they got home, Augusta banished the boys to their room while she made a firecall. Harry couldn't hear what she was saying, and got very nervous.

“If you're in trouble,” Neville said, “Why did she bring me home too?”

“I don't know!” Harry said. “Maybe she wants to lecture me in front of you and Granddad or something.”

“Laurie said you climbed the garden shed,” Neville said. “Did you really?”

“No,” Harry said. “At least, I don't think so. I don't remember climbing it, just ending up on top of it as those jerks came around the corner after me.”

Neville's eyes widened slightly. “I think I might know why Gran's acting funny,” he said. “If you got up on top of the garden shed without climbing it, you must have done it by magic.”

“Do you really think so?” Harry asked. “Maybe it was just a strong gust of wind.”

“A strong gust of _magic_ wind,” Neville said. “You're going to go to Hogwarts for sure.”

“We're both going to go to Hogwarts,” Harry said, firmly.

“I don't know...” Neville said. “I haven't done anything magic.”

Harry was about to respond when the door opened and Silvester poked his head into the room, grinning from ear to ear.

“I hear you did some magic,” he said. “This calls for some celebration!”

And so, instead of a lecture, Harry got ice cream. Of course, he did get a bit of a lecture later, the same one about finding an adult instead of picking a fight, with a new twist of how magic is unpredictable before you're old enough to start training it, and to not try and use it.

*****

The school year passed without much more incident until Easter break. The boys were out playing in the garden even though it was barely warm enough and Silvester was watching them, while Augusta was holed away in her lab, working on a potion. It didn't seem like the kind of day that would end in the kind of tragedy that would permanently shake up the order of things at the house on Halifax Road. 

Harry was thirsty, so he slipped inside the house to get some water. He filled up a cup and drank the whole thing, and then thought maybe Neville and Silvester would want more too, so he filled up two more cups and carefully carried them outside.

“Hey are you thirs-”

Silvester was lying on the ground and Neville was kneeling over him, looking terrified.

Harry dropped the cups. “What happened?”

“He was getting out of his chair and then he suddenly fell over!” Neville said. “I don't think he's breathing!”

Harry remembered a lesson they'd been taught in school. “I'll call 911,” he said, and rushed back into the house, the broken glass of the water glasses crackling under his shoes.

The next hour or so was a bit of a blur to Harry. Afterwards, he did remember speaking to a calming voice who asked him his address and other questions about his granddad, and he remembered going down to the basement and knocking on the door of Augusta's lab, and he had a clear memory of her face rapidly changing from frustrated to concerned to fearful and her waving her wand over her cauldron and then rushing upstairs.

At some point an ambulance arrived and then there were paramedics there, kneeling over Silvester's body but not loading him onto a stretcher - _they were supposed to load him onto a stretcher why weren't they loading him onto a stretcher and into the ambulance_ \- and then talking to him and to Augusta - _she was crying. Why was she crying_ and to Neville, although Harry couldn't recall what they said beyond “I'm sorry.”

Only then did they load Silvester onto a stretcher.

Augusta sat in the kitchen for over an hour, not speaking, and not responding to anything Harry said to her, before she finally went over to the fireplace and started contacting people.

Harry didn't want to believe what had just happened, he kept asking everyone – Augusta, Uncle Algie, Aunt Enid, the tall woman in green who he was pretty sure had come for tea once when he was much younger – why they weren't going to the hospital to visit, and when Silvester would be able to come home.

Neville had a haunted look in his eyes, and he wouldn't talk to anyone for a full day. When he did start talking it was twice as quiet as his normal voice, and with as few syllables as he could manage.

It was clear that the peaceful routine that the little family had settled into had shattered.

*****

“Gran?” Harry asked. Augusta looked down at him. He was standing, looking up at her, and if at all possible, his hair seemed less unruly than usual.

“Yes?” Augusta said.

“I don’t want to go to Granddad’s funeral secretly.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Augusta said, but Harry held his stance.

“I don’t want to go to Granddad’s funeral secretly,” he said. “I don't want to hide in Uncle Algie's coat or whatever your plan is.”

“Harry-” Augusta said, “There will be people there – reporters.”

“So?” Harry said.

“So, they won't leave us alone to mourn in peace,” Augusta said. “You're not ready to be followed around by nosy reporters.”

“They don't know where we live!” Harry said. “I don't want to miss Granddad's funeral just because of some reporters! He's the only Granddad I ever knew, and he wasn't even my parents' dad...”

Augusta looked down at the boy in a new light. He didn't look defiant, he looked incredibly sad. Harry had seen so much grief and loss and he wasn't even half the age of majority. She remembered a conversation she'd had with her husband, years before.

“When he's ready,” Silvester had said, “He'll decide to let the wizarding world know who raised him.”

“Are you sure?” Augusta said.

Harry nodded firmly. “In three more years I'll be going to Hogwarts anyway and people will find out then anyway. And they'll wonder why I wasn't at Granddad's funeral.”

Augusta sghed. “So be it,” she said.

*****

> HARRY POTTER RAISED BY LONGBOTTOMS
> 
> By Rita Skeeter, for the Daily Prophet
> 
> At the recent funeral of Silvester Longbottom, those in attendance were surprised to see none other than Harry Potter sitting with the family of the deceased. It turns out that the family who we all thought refused to take in the saviour of the wizarding world were secretly raising him this whole time.
> 
> What was their motivation? Did they seek to keep him hidden out of some paranoid fear of more dark wizards after the tragic circumstances that left their son Frank and his wife Alice in the permanent care of St. Mungo's? Or did they simply want to keep the Saviour of the Wizarding World to themselves?
> 
> Augusta Longbottom rudely refused to comment, and refused me access to the Boy Who Lived, telling me to stick my nose somewhere unpleasant. Is Harry Potter really safe in a household run by a woman so abrasive? Especially now that her more diplomatic husband is dead?
> 
> Albus Dumbledore could not be reached for comment on the logic of his choice of home for Harry Potter.

*****

“So, you put Harry in the home of your former school rival.”

Minerva looked up at Albus from the book she was reading. “I think you well know that my relationship with Augusta is a little different than simply being school rivals,” she said. “Honestly, I half-expected them to be the first family you looked into.”

Albus smiled sadly. “Alas, I was taken in by Silvester's speech about leaving the child where he'd been placed. I suspected they might have known where you placed Harry, but I also knew Augusta would chase me away the moment I 'came round, so I didn't attempt to ask them.”

“And do you still think, even given the Potters' will, that placing Harry with his mother's sister, would have been best?” Minerva asked.

Albus frowned pensively. “I suppose we'll never know,” he said.

*****

EPILOGUE

It was the last day of term. Harry and Neville were walking home, when Neville stopped and stared at the patch of grass next to them, sprinkled with the yellow blooms of Dandelions.

“Neville?” Harry asked.

Neville looked from the grass down to his feet. “I miss Granddad,” he said.

“Me too,” Harry said.

“I thought maybe if there was a wishing dandelion, I could wish he was back,” Neville said. “But there's not. All the dandelions I've seen from the school to here have been yellow.”

“Maybe we'll still find one,” Harry said. “We just have to keep looking.”

Neville shook his head. “It's like the world wants me to know I can't make that wish, no matter how much I want to.” He picked one of the yellow dandelions. “I wish you were a wishing dandelion,” he told it.

The yellow blossom closed up. Both boys stared at it in wonder as the green petals around the base shrivelled, and then the ones forming the closed up pod pulled away and opened up, revealing the white fluffy dandelion seeds.

“Neville,” Harry said. “I think _you_ did that.”

Neville nodded. “I think you're right,” he said, staring at the dandelion with wide eyes.

“We have to tell Gran!” Harry said.

With that, the boys hurried off towards their house, Neville shielding the now gone to seed dandelion from blowing away prematurely. Neither noticed that half a dozen of the other dandelions in the patch that had been yellow were now wishing dandelions as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now, folks!
> 
> For an idea of what it looked like when the dandelion was doing its thing, check out this youtube video: [[link]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQ_QqtXoyQw).
> 
> I have a decent portion of outlining done for the next part in this series (Harry's first year), and hopefully it won't be too long before I start posting it.


End file.
